Month: June 2016

Hate is a strong word. But I hate people that say there are no “good ones” left. Let’s make sure we get one thing clear: If you’re over 27.5 years of age, and you’re still screaming there aren’t any more good men/women available, you need to look in the mirror and realize the problem ain’t them………..it’s you. Yea, I said it. Truth hurts. Every stinkin’ time I log onto social media I see a bunch of negative Nancys and Neils yappin’ about how all men are dogs and all women are the female equivalent. For the love of the long weekend that is coming upon us, stop it. Quit making bad decisions with regards to who you date. Stop falling for the same kind of loser. When you see the red flags, pump your brakes. And most importantly, listen to your friends when they tell you he/she ain’t no good. We don’t need your semi-weekly emotional vomiting filling up our timeline about how another one has “done you wrong”. You’re doing yourself wrong by being an idiot. Have some personal accountability. Ain’t nobody tell you to fall in love after 12 days. Enjoy being single. Do you (I mean that figuratively, not literally. Unless……..never mind). There are plenty of “good ones” out there. Shouts out to all my married people who got it right and are doing their thing. Y’all the real MVP’s.

Hate is a strong word. But I hate passenger-drivers. You know who I’m talkin’ about. The friend that wants to tell you how to drive………in yo car. Let’s make sure we’re on the same page. I pay the insurance. I put gas in the tank. I pay the car note. And any and all repair money is coming from my bank account. These things combined mean that I have full authority over what goes on in my vehicle. Meaning, I don’t need to hear your commentary on how fast I drive. I’m fully aware of the signage denoting the speed limit. I know where we’re going, so I don’t need you to navigate. I’ve got Suri if I need assistance. Don’t touch my radio. I like my music loud, unless I’m parallel parking. Yea, I see the “check engine” light is on. Don’t worry about that, it just does that sometimes. If you want vehicular control, I suggest you drive yourself next time. Because your rhetoric is neither desired nor warranted in my car.

Hate is a strong word. But I hate people that talk about how much money they have. Shut up. Don’t even sit down. You don’t deserve to be that comfortable. Just stand there and be silent. Let me go out on a limb and say I represent all of us when I say……….no one cares. Unless you’re talkin’ about puttin’ somethin’ on these bills, I literally could not care less about how much you make or what you claim to have. It doesn’t make you look cool. We’re adults. It makes you look foolish. If you wanna impress me, tell me about your charitable endeavors, or how you’re raising responsible children. But don’t come trynna tell me about your bankroll. It does nothing for me. And a good percentage of y’all hollerin’ this and that are really bragging about the money and accomplishments of your parents. You ain’t done nothin’. Most people I know that work hard stay quiet and humble. You need to drop your high school insecurities. Those days are gone. And no matter what you say, do or buy, you can’t be retroactively cool. It don’t work like that.

Hate is a strong word. But I hate exercising. It aint’ as bad as eating healthy, but that son of a witch is runnin’ a close second. Now granted, I always feel accomplished and much better when I’m done, but the process itself sucks, in its entirety. Difficulty breathing, the feeling of death coming upon me, the inability to walk properly, and trouble using my arms are not conditions that make me say “yeah, that sounds like fun”. And there’s literally no good time to do it. If I choose the morning, I’ve gotta get up at the butt crack of dawn. And I if I choose to do it after work, happy hour always sounds more appealing around 4:37. If you grew up a ballplayer, the idea of exercising without said ball is wiggity, wiggity, wiggity whack. Big shout outs to all my people running 5ks and half/full marathons. And all my lifters like Adrian Hill gettin’ their gainz in the gym. You people have something in you that will never fester in me. Y’all the real MVP’s.